


Teach Me How To See

by KasumiAFKGod



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Little Mermaid AU, Solavellan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-07 23:20:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5474276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KasumiAFKGod/pseuds/KasumiAFKGod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>War between the land-dwellers and the merfolk has come to an uneasy standstill, but neither side is prepared to rest on their laurels quite yet. Niernen Lavellan is to be wedded to Cullen Rutherford of Ferelden in an arranged marriage that neither wants. So when she is rescued from drowning by one of the mysterious merfolk and is offered a deal by an equally mysterious creature calling himself 'Corypheus' to take to the seas in search of her missing father, she dives.</p><p>This is basically a shameless Little Mermaid AU of Solavellan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“You sure about showing your face above deck, Your Worship? Not afraid someone would see you?”

“Come now, Lace. Everyone on this ship already knows I’m not allowed on board, but nobody has ratted me out yet.”

Niernen opened her bright violet eyes as a spray of cool ocean water misted over her sun-warmed face. Coral-red lines of  _vallaslin_  branched out over her forehead and cheeks in the likeness of a bare tree. Reaching past the gunwale, the elf ran her hand along the gnarled figurehead of the snarling wolf carved into the ship’s prow, poised as if leaping over the sea as the frigate cut through the water. A smile touched her face at the familiar feel of the weathered wood beneath her fingers, her cream-coloured skin contrasting against the dusky charcoal grey of ironbark. Gusting wind ran through her neck-length black hair, snapping at the skirts of her blue dress and filling their sails taut, pushing them forward at a good speed.

A derisive snort reached her ears, barely audible over the sliced waves breaking over their hull. “You do know everyone will kill me dead if they ever find out I smuggle you on board during patrols?”

Turning back to look over her shoulder at her dwarven companion, Niernen flashed her a grin. “But that’s not going to be a problem because they never will find out, right?”

Captain Lace Harding merely rolled her eyes with an exasperated smile, the ship’s wheel turning in her hands as if it were an extension of her body. She guided the  _Fen’Harel_  through the sea, its bow cutting an effortlessly path across the deep blue water. “What’s going on at the palace this time, anyway? Did someone set Lady Nightingale’s nugs loose again?”

Niernen’s expression fell, the guilt returning tenfold and punching her in the gut. She let her gaze drop down to the smooth grey forecastle deck, her gaze tracing the rows of interlaced silver planks to the white canvas sails open above their heads where endless lengths of tightly woven rope rigging hung from the yards and formed shrouds leading up to the towering masts. She knew every plank, every pulley, every nook and corner of this ship ever since she was barely a teenager. For years she had sought solace in the peaceful calm of the seas above and below its deck, taking joy in the simple, honest life led by a hard-working sailor of an Inquisition frigate. Now, she faced the possibility of losing even this.

“Cullen Rutherford is supposed to visit today,” said Niernen by way of explanation, letting the offhand statement hang in the air. It took a moment for Harding to catch on.

“Wait, Rutherford? The dignitary from Ferelden who—Oh. Oh, I’m so sorry, Lavellan. Are they still …?”

Niernen lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug, not meeting Harding’s eyes. “They’re getting impatient, they want an answer.”

“Are you really going to agree to the marriage?”

Niernen hung her head, arms dropping to her sides as she eyed the everlasting rise and fall of the sea. Always constant, never changing. The bobbing water glinted in the sun, pushed by the underlying current no one could see. “It’s not as though I have a choice.”

“But you have a choice.”

Niernen glanced back up at her friend to meet the rare frown on the dwarven sea captain’s freckled features. “You don’t have to concede to Ferelden’s proposal. You don’t have to become a pretty chess piece and do the whole politics thing, if that’s not what you want. This has gone on long enough, and I don’t want to see you miserable like this anymore. You always have a choice.”

Niernen shook her head before Harding even finished speaking. “I can’t. My brother and Cassandra have delayed this for as long as they could already, and Orlais and Tevinter expect us to—”

“Besides, the man has a mistress, doesn’t he? What’s her name—Rhiannon? Naomi?”

“I don’t remember,” said Niernen with another shrug.

Lace sighed, shaking her head. “He doesn’t want this marriage either, does he?”

“No, he doesn’t. But we all have to do what we have to do, Lace.”

“Well, just … Promise me you’ll think about it?”

“I’ll try,” said Niernen with a small smile, though they both knew she wouldn’t.

Harding blew a breath out through her nose, jerking her chin at the sea. “Anyway, best get yourself below deck soon, Your Worship. We’re expecting to dock back at Skyhold Harbour in an hour or so, if the winds continue to favour us.”

Casting her gaze forward, to where she could barely make out the speck of land in the distance, Niernen huffed. “An hour’s a long time, Lace. I can stay out here a bit longer.” Turning back to her friend, she gave her a half-hearted glare. “And I told you to stop calling me that.”

Harding smiled. “Just saying, Lavellan, we’re in merpeople-infested waters now, so it doesn’t hurt to be careful. Wouldn’t want to explain to the Inquisition how I lost their Herald to the mermaids, Lady Cassandra would have my head.”

Niernen laughed. “That’s if Leliana doesn’t get to you first!”

At her words, Captain Harding shuddered. “Let’s not talk about that, I still have nightmares over the last guy they brought in after she was through—”

“MAELSTROM AHEAD!” came the yell from the crow’s nest. Elf and dwarf broke off their banter to glance at the stretch of water ahead, where a whirling body of water that wasn’t there mere moments before began to build.

“Is that a whirlpool?” Niernen asked, intrigued, as she leaned further out over the gunwale to get a better look. The waters swirled in a perfect circle, drawing itself into a shallow cone as it expanded wider and wider, growing to the size of large wyvern. In all her years of sneaking aboard the patrol ship, she had never seen one in person before.

Harding frowned, spinning the ship’s wheel to veer a hard right. “Of a sort, but it’s strange. The currents here are relatively peaceful and there have never been any reported hazards around our vicinity. And never have I seen one form so fast.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“Shouldn’t be, but it’ll hamper our progress. I’ll have to go around it—”

An ear-splitting crack of lightning split the rapidly darkening sky in two and drowned out the rest of Harding’s sentence. The sparkling, bobbing waters of the ocean gave way to angry black waves that frothed and rammed against the ship, jarring it to and fro as the wood creaked in protest. With the calm waters went the sun, blotted out by the billowing, dark clouds that bore down on them like a horde of bats, plunging them into a dim darkness. The change was quick as blinking, and the passengers of the  _Fen’Harel_  now found themselves in the middle of a vicious storm.

“Lace, what’s happening?!” Niernen demanded, edging away from the gunwale as another bolt of lightning stabbed the roiling sea.

“Not anything natural,” said Harding through gritted teeth. “This is magic.  _Mer-magic_ , blast it all!”

The ship shook as something rammed its hull underwater, nearly throwing Niernen off her feet as she grasped onto the gunwale for support. The crew began yelling, screaming that the merpeople were going to kill them. The quartermaster called for calm, tolling the bells signalling for all hands as men scaled the rigging to the sails. Niernen staggered upright, trying to regain her balance with the ship moving under her feet like a rampaging druffalo. The vessel rose and fell on the waves, the heights getting increasingly drastic. She swallowed, trying to tide her rising fear. Even if she knew how to swim, in these waters ….

“Get below deck, Lavellan!” Harding shouted over the storm. “The waves are too high, I don’t know if—”

As if summoned, huge wave twice as tall as the ship was long towered on their starboard side, bearing down on them with impossible speed.

“BRACE!” someone shouted. It was their only warning.

Niernen hit the deck with both knees and wrapped her arms around the nearest balustrade just as the water crashed over the deck, briefly bringing the ship under like it was a child’s toy. The force of it nearly ripped her from the ship, forcing the breath out of her lungs in a mad stream of bubbles and foam that dominated her vision. Panic seized at her, stilling her heart and causing her to gasp, drawing in some water and then she was unable to breathe; but she refused to let go, she absolutely mustn’t let go—

Just as she was sure she was going to drown, the ship resurfaced, righting itself even over the churning water, caught helplessly in the current. Niernen coughed, hacking up water as she drew in ragged breaths and blinked to clear her eyes, keeping her death grip on the balustrade.

“Lace!” she tried to yell, her voice coming out as a croak. The water ran in streams down her body, her clothes sticking uncomfortably to her skin. It plastered hair to her cheeks as the torrent poured down around her in sheets and obscured her vision to nothing more than dull, wet grey. “LACE!”

“Lavellan!” came the reply. A rush of relief washed over her; Harding was still alive. “Lavellan, hang on! I’ll get us out of here, I’ll get us—”

A second wave washed over them again, the force slamming down on Niernen, and this time, she did not resurface.

* * *

Cold, dark.

No breath. Her lungs burned, her eyes stung. Darkness reaching up to pull her deeper, vision fading. She couldn’t move, too heavy.

Was this what is was like to drown?

Something brushing her wrist. She tried to pull away, but too strong, and she was too weak. All her strength to keep her eyes open.

A figure moving in the swallowing darkness. Shining points in the oppressive dark; eyes blue like starmetal. A bare scalp, but auburn brows. Furrowed. A scar above the right one. Beautiful.

Strangest of all; glittering silver scales.

Everything faded.

* * *

It felt strangely hot.

And the bed was hard. Had she fallen asleep on the floor again?

Niernen groaned, trying to move her arms but finding them stiff and sore. Had she been out in the forest yesterday? She didn’t remember doing any strenuous exercises.

It really was hot.

The sun stabbed at her retinas even through closed eyelids. She frowned, turning her face away and laying her cheek on the damp, sandy ground.

… Sand?

Niernen’s eyes flew open, only to clench shut against the glare of the blazing midday sun directly above. With waking came awareness, and she groaned again as her body let her know of every ache and pain while her head pounded like someone was smacking her upside the head with an anvil. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth, her lips peeling and parched. Sitting up in jerky movements as if she were an old woman instead of a young lady, she got her joints to work enough to bring a hand to her forehead, smearing sand across her sun-burnt face as she swept the salt-stiffened hair from her forehead.

What happened? Her too-dry tongue darted out to lick her lips. She hissed as they cracked, tasting the coppery tang of blood. The furrows between her brows deepened as she massaged her temples, trying to sift through the murky depths of her memory. The wash of waves and rush of blessedly cool sea wind on her cheeks stirred at her mind. Yes. She last remembered giving Cassandra the slip and sneaking aboard the Fen’Harel on another of her secret excursions out to the sea. She was talking with Harding, telling her about Cullen Rutherford. Then there was a storm—

The storm.

Oh, no.

Niernen forced her eyes open, squinting against the too-bright light and shielding them with a hand. The sea reflected the light of the sun, the cloudless sky allowing it to beat its merciless rays down on the ground. The tide was high, the water lapping at the shoreline a mere three feet away. She lay sprawled out on the wet sand, clothes damp. Her skin was pink, sun-burnt and coated in soft sand as if she had taken a dip in the sea then rolled out on the beach before drying  out in the sun. There was not a single other person in sight, nor was there any sign of the ship.

What happened? What happened to the crew? To Harding? Surely she couldn’t be the only one alive?

She had fallen into the water, she was sure of it. She remembered the dark, the cold, the freezing chill and pressing walls squeezing the life and breath out of her with every passing second as she sank to the seabed. She tried to breathe but only brought in the cold, numbing water into her lungs. She was so sure she was dead, sure she was drowned, then darkness overtook her. How was she still alive?

Eyes adjusting to the light, she cricked her neck as she swiveled her head this way and that, glancing up and down the deserted beach and finding herself alone. Just then, she became aware of an aching dryness in her throat and she coughed. One cough turned into two. The next moment, she was wheezing and hacking into the sand. Now that she was fully aware of her body, the thirst was almost unbearable.

Just as she wondered what she would do next, the familiar peal of bell towers tolling the hour sounded faintly through the air. She knew they were hourly bells, for they were the very ones standing tall and proud over Skyhold Harbour, their tower like an ever-watching sentinel. Twisting her body, she turned all the way around, eyeing the sheer cliff-faces and finally spying a the tip of a flagpole peeking from one of the bluffs, a barely visible maroon flag billowing in the wind marked with the black and white sword through the eye. By some miracle, she had made it back on the shores of her home.

She sighed even as a measure of relief washed over her. She didn’t know what happened to the ship or crew, and worry gnawed at her gut. But if she had made it out, surely the others had too?

Regardless, she had some explaining to do. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I realised I was a derp and didn't set the fic to have multiple chapters initially .... Welp, here's to my derpiness and the second chapter. xD

“Can you explain to me _exactly_ what you were thinking when you stowed away on that ship?” **  
**

Niernen forced her features into a sheepish grin, clasping her hands in front of her. “Look, Cassandra. It’s not as bad as you think it is. Nothing like that ever happened before—”

“One time!” barked Cassandra, jabbing a finger in her direction. “One time will be all it takes for everything to fall to ruin! Honestly, I expected better of you. What will the Fereldans say when they find out that the Inquisitor risked death on the seas just to escape a single afternoon with their dignitary?”

“They can say whatever they want to say,” muttered Niernen, clenching at the elbows of her sleeves, fingers curled into fists. She glanced over to the windows, the twelve-feet tall Orlesian glass panels spanning across the curved walls of the War Room. The heavy velvet curtains were drawn, revealing a panoramic nighttime view of the ocean from Skyhold’s perch on the cliff. Moonlight glinted off the bobbing waves, turning the water’s surface into a sheet of glimmering silk.

Cassandra ploughed on. “You know very well that the Inquisition cannot continue to ignore the demands of the people, but for us to obtain a force that can rival that of the merfolk, we need Ferelden’s armies—”

“And Ferelden won’t acknowledge an alliance with us unless we give something more concrete than a signature on a treaty. I _know_ , Cassandra.” She tore her gaze from the window, turning back to Cassandra.

“Inquisitor—”

Niernen didn’t let her finish. “I know the people want war with the merfolk, I know we don’t have the numbers, I know that Ferelden will give them to us, but only if we agree to wed me with Cullen. I was _there_ for the talks, Cassandra. All of them. Do you really think I don’t know?”

By the last three words, she’d raised her voice enough that she was sure she could be heard from the other room, but her frustration at the injustice of it all had risen to the surface, the spark that ignited the flare of anger and blotting out everything else. But she couldn’t bring herself to care. “And none of us even wants this war, but because Orlais and Tevinter have been pushing for it, you wouldn’t mind marrying me off to someone I don’t love just so the Inquisition can remain in power.”

She might as well have stabbed Cassandra with a dinner fork. The Seeker stared at her, eyes wide, all composure lost to the winds. “Lavellan! Y-you know that’s not what I—”

“I’m tired, I’m retiring to my quarters,” Niernen said, words curt as they cut off Cassandra mid-sentence. She pushed past the Seeker on her way to the door, not giving her a chance to protest. Slamming the door behind her, she huffed as she stomped away.

Regret pinched at her heart even before the last echo had faded from the corridor. She slowed her steps, wringing her hands together. That was terrible; Cassandra had never done anything to deserve that. Why, oh, why did she shoot her mouth off like that? She had let anger cloud her judgement, colouring her words with intents she never meant. Niernen sighed, slapping a hand over her face as she entered the antechamber. She hoped Cassandra would accept an apology later.

“Sister!”

Niernen looked up just in time to be bear-hugged by a blur of red hair and beige silk, nearly taking them both to the floor.

“Finarel,” she choked past a laugh, reaching up to violently ruffle the other elf’s hair. “Get off!”

“I did tell you that you’d get caught, eventually,” said her brother, letting her go with a good-natured punch on her shoulder and a grin that threatened to split his face in two. His choppy red locks, already rebelliously tousled, now stuck up in all directions. “Looks like you owe me thirteen pinecones, so don’t forget.”

Despite her gloomy spirits she couldn’t help the smile breaking across her face at her younger brother’s antics. His smile was contagious. “What, for a bet we made when you were seven?”

“Aha! Interest! Nine pine cones on top of the thirteen, then.”

She smiled, shaking her head. Despite the pressures of being First and set to inherit Skyhold’s throne, she could still count on her brother to always be himself.

The serious pull on his usually expressive visage brought her out of her thoughts, and she quirked her eyebrow at him questioningly.

“You could have died today,” he said, in a voice barely above a whisper.

She forced a laugh, but it came out shaky and unconvincing even to her ears. “Oh, don’t say you thought that I would actually die by drowning. I don’t think I can live through the humiliation.”

He doesn’t return the laugh. “Listen, I can tell Ferelden to take their marriage proposal and shove it. We don’t need it. Cullen can be banished from the peninsula. To hell with the merfolk, we don’t need some petty war. Let people approve or disapprove all they want—”

She seized his shoulder, halting his words. “Finarel, listen to yourself. You _do_ need the support of the people if you are to become Keeper. Father entrusted Skyhold to us—to you—when he left. We can’t let him down now, not when Orlais and Tevinter seek to take Skyhold. The harbour has been in our clan for generations, we cannot lose it now.”

It was his turn to shake his head, violet gaze resolute. The same violet eyes as hers, the eyes they’d inherited from their father. “I don’t care about that, not if it means I will lose my sister.”

“That’s not—” she started to say, then stopped. Taking a deep breath, she began again. “Look, I overreacted. Marrying Rutherford isn’t that big of a deal. I’ll do it.”

“Even so, you’re still going to give the Seeker another heart attack by going out to sea again, aren’t you?” he intoned, shooting her a knowing look she knew better than to lie to.

Sighing, she didn’t immediately answer, instead glancing away to stare out at the rippling waves of the sea reflecting the twinkling stars above like a canvas mirror. “But you feel it too, don’t you?” she whispered. “There’s something or someone calling for us, and it’s coming from out there.”

An inexplicable draw, the ocean beckoning them through some invisible, soundless pull, urging them to come. They’d felt it, a constant nag at the back of their minds for fifteen years.

As always when the subject was brought out into the open, Finarel’s expression transformed into one of discomfort. “Niernen, _asa’ma’lin_ , you know very well it’s some kind of magic we don’t understand. It’s not safe.”

“But I’m not a mage, and I can feel it too,” she said, insistent. “Finarel, what if it’s _papae_ out there? What if he’s still alive, calling us for help?”

“That’s ….” Finarel shook his head, but she could see his unvoiced self-doubt reflected in his eyes. The suffocating want to believe, but not daring. “It’s most likely some kind of mer-magic, meant to lure us out to sea, make us lower our guard and turn us vulnerable to their whims. If it really were _papae_ , he would have found a way back to us long ago.”

“But what if he can’t?” she pressed, “What if he’s stuck and needs our help and we’ve been sitting here doing nothing but play politics with the humans all these years?”

“ _Asa’ma’lin_ , please,” he said, voice cracking. “ _Papae_ …. _Papae_ is dead. He has been for fifteen years. You…. I…. We both need to let him go.”

* * *

 

Strolling down the shore barefoot, Niernen smiled as the receding tide lapped against her ankles as it washed the shoreline. Seashells, kelp strands, and twisted bits of driftwood lay scattered over the wet sand, like a trove of little treasures. Another wave swept in, rocking them in the current and splashing up her shins before pulling back and returning to the sea.

She sighed, closing her eyes and enjoying the cool breeze on her skin, the light, airy dress fluttering playfully in the wind. It had taken no small effort on her part to convince her brother and Cassandra to allow her anywhere near the ocean again after her near-shipwreck incident a week ago, but they’d finally conceded. Now, back near the water, the unfathomable feeling of being back home was almost overwhelming. The water rinsed the restlessness born from going stir crazy cooped up inside the fortress, melting it away from her skin with each wave.

This would have to do for now, as the _Fen’Harel_ had been grounded indefinitely for repairs. While the ship and its crew and had survived, the storm had severely damaged the ship. Even now, she could still picture the scowl on Captain Lace Harding’s face as she told her about it, cursing whirlpools and merfolk alike.

A frown furrowed her own brow as she dug her toes into the sand, feeling the grit between them. Something didn’t make sense. The attack on the _Fen’Harel_ had been some form of mer-magic, of that she had no doubt. But the real question was ‘why.’ While the merfolk and the land-dwellers had a bloody history and there were tentative plans for war, an outright attack hadn’t occurred from either side in years. So why change that now? And if their goal had been to attack the ship, why had everyone escaped alive?

She sighed, shaking her head. She just couldn’t make sense of it. Glancing back out at the horizon, her eyes glazed over as the ocean’s pull was brought to the forefront of her mind again. Hiking the dress up to her knees, she waded into water, towards the pull. Stopping where the water came level to her calves, she stared out at the sea, the wind running its fingers through her inky black hair. Moments like this brought to mind memories of Keeper Deshana taking her and Finarel out for walks on the beach when they were younger, telling stories of how the elves and the merfolk were once one people.

She remembered the tale exactly as Deshana had told it, as if she’d heard it only yesterday and not a whole decade ago. A tale of a wondrous underwater kingdom ruled by the almighty pantheon, tragedy befalling when the god Fen’Harel betrayed his brethren and sealed them away before exiling the lowest of the merfolk and taking their tails to condemn them to a life on land, turning them into mortal elves. All so he could rule an entire kingdom himself with only the most powerful merfolk mages at his disposal. Niernen remembered laughing when Josephine had decided to name their nine frigates after each god of the pantheon, laughing even harder when Lace had told her she’d been charged with the Fen’Harel.

Naming a ship after the trickster god; perhaps that had been tempting fate a little too much.

A sudden splash drew her out of her thoughts, the abrupt sound jarring amidst the rhythmic lapping of the tide. She spun, head swivelling, looking for the source. She heard it again, the slap of water on water, as if fighting with itself. As she pinpointed the noise, her eyes darting to the cluster of tidal pools up ahead, the rocky recesses raised a few tiers above eye-level.

Quickening her pace, she bounded over to the pools, kicking up sand and seawater. It was uncommon for larger ocean creatures to get caught in the pools when the tide receded, but it was known to happen. If it was another baby dolphin or sea turtle, she had to get it back into the ocean as soon as possible.

Skidding to a stop, she began clambering up the rock. The splashing sounds had ceased. Whatever it was, it must have tired itself out. Finally reaching the mouth of the pool, she hauled herself up and peered inside. What she saw had her flinching back, squawking indignantly as she grasped onto the rock for balance.

An elven man lay face down in the pool; a naked elven man. His head was bald, bare scalp catching the sun like polished marble. He rested his forehead on the rim of the pool, outstretched elbows on either side of his pointed ears. Light skin had been burned red from the glare of the sun, no doubt sensitive to the touch. But where his submerged legs should have been, sunburnt skin instead gave way to gleaming silver scales, forming an aquatic tail with pale fins as long as her arm. He was no elf. He was a merman.

Merman.

Niernen became aware of the burning in her lungs, her body shrieking for air. Her gasp sounded obscenely loud in the sudden silence her ears had been plunged into, the contradictory ringing in them deafening. All the while her eyes stayed wide, stayed focused on the being before her. No land dweller had seen a mer-person up close and personal for nigh upon twenty years. What was one doing on the shore? And so close to a city like Skyhold?

He didn’t react at her sudden appearance or hiss of breath. In fact, he hadn’t moved at all. Biting her lip, muscles tensed, she crept closer.

Was it …. Was he dead?

A flash of movement sent her recoiling with another gasp, but he moved like lightning and his fingers closed around her wrist like vice. She threw her weight back, trying to escape his grip as she scrabbled at his hand, but her fingernails raked against a soft covering of scales instead of skin, giving way but causing no damage. Seeming impervious to her struggles, he twisted, yanking hard on her arm and throwing her off balance as she fell into the pool face-first.

Right on top of him.

Panic struck her to the core as she fought tooth and nail, frantic fingers tearing at his hand until her other wrist was seized as well. She tried to stand, to get away, sloshing the water over the rocky edge as she flailed. A glimmer of silver flashed in the corner of her eye and her legs were knocked out from under her again, the fins of his tail whipping across her shins. Certain that he would attack her-drown her-something, she was about to forget about her stupid-stupid-stupid decision of ever getting near him in the first place and screaming for help when blue-grey eyes dominated her field of vision, his face freezing mere inches from hers.

Blue-grey, like starmetal.

Blood stilled in her veins as her heart forgot to beat. Breath freezing on her lips, her cry for help stuck in her throat and came out a choked sort of gasp.

Images fled before her mind’s eye. Pale skin shining in the underwater light. Flashing silver scales. Rush of dark water as something propelled her to the surface.

Her struggling ceased immediately.

“It was you,” she breathed, her tiny voice almost lost to the waves breaching the shoreline. “From the shipwreck, you ….”

If the merman understood her, he made no show of it. His unblinking stare seemed fixed on her, but slipped in and out of focus, pupils dilating and constricting in rapid succession. His face now revealed in the sun, she took in his sharp features; so deceptively elven. An aquiline nose and high cheekbones framed those dominant eyes, leading down to a dimpled chin and branching out to long pointed ears, more gracefully curved than her own. Auburn brows pinched together in a frown. But most prominent of all was the stream of scarlet flowing from a cut above his right brow, carving a river of blood through the stark paleness of his skin and dripping off his jaw to disperse into the clear water of the pool.

His lips parted, air whistling through them as he took a shuddering breath. Rows of slits along either side of his neck opened up, revealing the raw, red gills beneath. She suppressed a shudder, pulling again at his grip on her, but he only tightened his hold further. Letting out a pained wince, she tried not to launch into another fruitless round of grappling as she felt the smooth press of fine scales instead of skin.

“Let me go,” she croaked past the lump in her throat, pulling harder, but he wouldn’t budge. Then again, neither was he attacking her. Calming slightly, she ceased her pulling. He merely stared, grip unrelenting as each breath passed through his lips in a wheeze of air.

Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she bit her lip. He was a merman. An enemy. His people had tried to sink an Inquisition frigate and almost killed her. The harbour guards weren’t far; she could yell, scream, and they would come running.

But when she opened her mouth, her voice came out as a whisper instead.

“Look,” she told him, staring right back into those glazed star-metal eyes. “You have to let me go. I’m going to try and help you, but I can’t do that if you hold me down like this.”

He blinked once, features pulling into a frown as he glared at her. She held her ground and her breath, refusing to break eye contact as they stared each other down. Did he … understand her?

Finally, his eyes fluttered closed and he bowed his head, scaled hands slipping from her wrists to splash back into the water. Wasting no time, she wrenched herself free, splashing the water as she retreated from him. Standing away, legs tensed in a stance prepared to vault over the rim of the pool and bolt, she stared.

He stared back through half-lidded eyes, shards of star-metal piercing her soul and rooting her in place. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe as his lips parted, muttering something she couldn’t catch. Then his eyes slipped all the way closed and he slumped back into the rippling water.

She stood there, knee-deep in the tidal pool as she worried her bottom lip and wrung her hands, deliberating. It would be so easy to simply leave, return to the castle and act as if nothing had happened. As if she hadn’t come face-to-face with an enemy they had been plotting against for decades upon decades. She didn’t really need to report about him to anyone, and simply leave his future in the hands of fate. She could forget about this whole incident, and no one need ever be the wiser.

A bolt of shame struck through her like lightning, shocking her being and stunning her with its intensity. Was she really going to leave him like this after what he’d done for her? Regardless of what really had happened to cause the attack on the _Fen’Harel_ , he’d saved her, hadn’t he? Plucked her from the cold embrace of the waters where she would have certainly drowned like a sewer rat and brought her back to the shore. And how did she plan to repay him? Leaving him to die a potentially slow, painful death from drying out?

‘Merpeople bleed red, just like us. What makes them so different?’

She squared her shoulders, straightening her back. She was going to help him. She had to help him. Afraid or not, for good reason or no, he’d saved her life. It would be poor repayment to turn her back on him now.

Swallowing her fear, she crept towards him again, assessing how best to handle the situation. Her eyes darted up to the shoreline, a good twenty feet from where they were. She would have to drag him. Glancing back down, she eyed the wound on his forehead with trepidation. It didn’t look too bad, but was still flowing red like a half-dry Orlesian fountain. Maybe she should do something about it first? It didn’t feel right to let him bleed like that—

“INQUISITOR?”

Niernen jumped, cool water splashing up her legs as she whirled around. Peering against the glare of the sun, she could make out a tall figure striding down the beach, heading towards her. The insignia of a sunburst eye emblazoned across her chest was unmistakeable.

“INQUISITOR?” she heard Cassandra call again, her head swivelling around, surveying the shoreline.

“Damn it,” Niernen hissed under her breath, ducking close to the ground as she crawled out of the pool. No more time to waste, she would just have to get him to the water and hope for the best. If Cassandra were to catch sight of him, she’d kill him on the spot.

Hooking her elbows under the merman’s arms, she grunted as she hauled the elf half of him out of the pool with a great heave. She wasn’t new to some heavy lifting, but his body was completely limp; a dead-weight in her arms. She retreated, stepping down the tiered rock as she pulled on him again. His tail cleared the pool but the next thing she knew he was tumbling into her, knocking her off-balance and running her into the rocks and then they were both on their backs in the sand.

“Inquisitor?”

Cassandra sounded closer now; she must have heard them fall down the pools. Leaping to her feet and ignoring the stinging of her scrapes and bruises and the merman’s muffled groans, she seized the closest part of him—his tail—and lugged him erratically across the sand.

“Inquisitor? Is that you? Where are you?”

Niernen winced but didn’t stop as she dragged him over a jagged piece of rock protruding from the sand and scraped across his sunburnt back, her charge grunting in protest. She was counting on the rocky crags of the tidal pool to obstruct Cassandra’s view of them until she could reach the waterline, but the Seeker could round the corner and spot them at any moment.

She gritted her teeth, pulling harder. No, she wasn’t going to be the cause of his death after he was the cause of her survival, blast it.

The cold splash of seawater against her ankles and dampening her clothes had never been more welcome in her life. Throwing all her weight into her final tug, one last heave, she fell on her backside and into the water. She was dripping wet, and the saltwater stung her cuts and scrapes, but that didn’t matter because they were in the water.

Like a gargoyle coming to life, the merman’s eyes flashed open, revealing a final glimpse of their pretty star-metal before he darted from her arms and took to the sea in a glint of silver faster than she could blink. Twisting around, she tried to catch a glimpse of him, but a trail of seafoam was the only proof he had ever been there.

“Inquisitor, there you—What in Andraste’s name are you doing?”

Casting a look over a shoulder gave Niernen a view of Cassandra standing by the shore, arms at her sides and jaw hanging open. Heart leaping to her throat, she swallowed thickly, hoping—praying—that her advisor had seen nothing. She looked down, amid repeated thoughts to appear natural, and paused. Scores of red marks and broken skin littered her arms and legs, and she was willing to bet she would be sporting a number of sizeable bruises within a few hours. Her sopping dress clung to her like second skin and she shivered as a gust of wind sent a chilling rush up her spine.

“I, er, fell?” she said, giving Cassandra an impish grin and one-shoulder shrug. The other woman continued to stare, eyes round. ‘Oh, please buy it, please buy it, please buy it.’

“Get out of there this instant!” barked Cassandra, stalking towards her and wading through the shallow water. Seizing Niernen’s upraised hand, she dragged her to her feet before yanking her away. Waving her arms animatedly, Cassandra gestured at the shallow trench in the sand running from the tidal pool to the water where she’d dragged the merman over the beach. “Ugh, we let you take a walk and instead you go gallivanting all over and end up like this. Are you out of your mind? Have some common sense, Inquisitor.”

Suppressing a sigh of relief, Niernen allowed the tenseness in her shoulders to abate as she smiled at her fuming friend. “Relax, Cassandra. It was just a tiny slip. Besides, I was just having fun.” She couldn’t exactly tell her that the path in the sand wasn’t caused from her crawling over it.

“A tiny slip? Of all the—do you have any idea what will happen if—”

The smile didn’t leave her face as Niernen nodded, squeezing water out of her hair and clothes and trailing after Cassandra, the human woman prattling on. She hadn’t seen him, and that merman had taken off on his own once he was in the water so he should be all right …. Shouldn’t he?

As her feet tramped across the sand trail again, her toes kicked at something hard and sent it skittering a few inches. Pausing, she glanced down, setting her eyes on a lupine jawbone. Lacquered black like ebony with several cords looped on one end, it looked like it served as a necklace of sorts.

Instantly, she knew it was his, even though she hadn’t had the mind to notice anything other than his face at the time. She didn’t know how she knew, she just did. It must have been thrown off his neck when they’d tumbled down the rock.

Bending to scoop it up, she cupped it in her hand, still following after an oblivious Cassandra. She stared at it in her hands, the black bone stark against the cream of her skin. She shouldn’t keep it. It could be some magical artifact. A weapon of destruction. A scrying tool. Who knew what it could do?

Brushing the sand off its surface, she wound up the cords and pocketed it.

No one need ever be the wiser.


End file.
